


Dean and Castiel's Little Angel

by thehotinpsychotic



Category: Castiel - Fandom, Dean Winchester - Fandom, Sam Winchester - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: AU, Adoption, Fanfiction, Gay Marriage, M/M, family au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 14:25:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehotinpsychotic/pseuds/thehotinpsychotic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas are preparing for their little baby boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean and Castiel's Little Angel

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblr ----------> www.these-wounds-will-scar-me.tumblr.com  
> Link to my MCR frerard fanfiction --------------> http://archiveofourown.org/works/850869
> 
> Any comments, suggestions, asks, or ideas for fanfiction is welcome!
> 
> And I have a Johnlock cross dressing AU on the way :)

“What about the name… Jeremiah?” Dean asked.  
Sam visibly cringed, his fox like features scrunching up into a distorted mask of disapproval.  
“You know you can just say you hate it!” Dean snapped, slamming down his book of baby names. Over 60,000 names in that book, and Dean was willing to bet not a single one of them would please his brother.  
“No, no, Jeremiah’s fine,” Sam lied. He knew he wasn’t fooling anyone.  
“You know it’s not your kid,” Dean pointed out.  
Sam frowned. “But I don’t want my nephew to be forever crippled because my idiot brother and his winged husband decided to call him Jeremiah.” He flipped his thin hair, very pleased with his comeback.  
Dean scowled and continued to flip through the pages, growing more and more frustrated. Ernie… Who would name their kid Ernie? And Travis…. Ech. Don’t even get him started on Gerald. He couldn’t believe these names had stayed, like fungal infections, in society through years and years.   
Castiel entered the room, appearing suddenly over Dean’s shoulder. In the past, this would startle Dean and cause him to jump, but after two years of dating and a year of marriage he was no longer surprised. He easily entwined his fingers with Castiel’s.  
“Are you sure you don’t want to help name the little guy?” Dean asked his husband. Cas had told him Dean could take full responsibility of naming their child and he would support whatever decision Dean reached. Still, Dean felt so guilty for not allowing Cas any input on something as huge as the permanent name of their single baby. Sure, both of them wanted more children, but adoption agencies just took so long.  
Cas’s eyes flicked carelessly across the various names. “Nah. I expect you to select a name of great taste and convenience.” He pecked Dean on top of his gelled hair. “Please don’t name our son Gerald.”  
“Wasn’t planning on it,” Dean laughed. Sam grinned, glad to see his older brother finally happy. Before Cas, Dean stopped taking any joy from life around age seven. Sam blames it on their lifestyle; when you’re constantly moving, you’re father’s never home, and you’re permanently in danger; it takes a toll on your morale.  
“What do you think about the name Daniel?” Dean asked Cas.  
“Sounds good. Easy to spell, same consonant as yours, it’s not Gerald.” Cas let an ear to ear smile loose. “I like the ring to it.”  
“That just makes me think of Danny Bonaduche,” Sam shuddered.  
Cas’s face fell.   
“Damn it, Sammy!” Dean cursed. He leaned over to slug his sibling in the arm. He slapped the book shut. “We’re done for today.”  
“You know,” Sam began. He took a pause to buff his fingernails on his chest. “You could always name it Sam.”  
Dean scoffed. “If anything, Sam will be its middle name. I think John’s a better middle name though.”  
Castiel nodded in agreement. “It’s a classic name.”  
“I really don’t want to talk about names anymore,” Dean muttered, massaging his temples.  
Castiel rubbed his husband’s tense shoulders. “We don’t have to.”  
“Are you guys still going shopping tomorrow?” Sam asked. “I want to help.”   
“Yes, but you,” Dean started, shooting a glare at his younger brother, “Cannot come.”  
“Why? I want to!” Sam whined. Dean was instantly reminded of when Sam was a young child and Dean, not much older, was given the tiresome task of caring for him for days on end.   
“It’s a husband thing,” Dean replied simply. “Besides I don’t want to hear you moaning about how your brother’s having a baby and you don’t even have a girlfriend.”  
Cas squinted. “That seemed a little harsh.”  
“Oh, those are his words,” Dean explained, motioning towards Sam, who shrugged.   
“I want to help,” Sam repeated, just as whiny as last time.  
“Fine, you’re on baby proofing duty,” Dean designated, tossing Sam a screw driver. Sam, adapted to a quick paced life in a state of eternal trepidation, easily caught the tool.  
Sam turned the smooth red screwdriver around in his large hands, feeling the cool metal on his skin. “What does baby proofing mean?”  
“Resolve any potential dangers by making them safe. Find a device that keeps the cupboards and toilet inaccessible to a young human being, perhaps a lock for the bathroom door, make sure no blinds have pulley systems that could wrap around an infant’s neck,” Castiel listed.  
“Basically fix anything that you would hurt yourself on,” Dean cut in.  
Sam frowned at his older sibling, who thought that he was hilarious. He could tell by the smug little smile on his face. Even though Dean previously struggled with self-esteem issues, one thing he always prided himself on was his crude sense of humor.   
“I’ll go to the hardware store now,” Sam offered, getting up and grabbing the Impala keys on his way out the door.  
“Be careful with Baby!” Dean called after Sam.  
Cas snickered. He wrapped his arms around Dean’s broad shoulders. “Sometimes I wonder if you love that car more than me.”  
Dean chuckled, his throaty laugh spreading vibrations to Cas’s forearms. “Ehh, it’s a 60-40 ratio.”  
Cas leaned so that his mouth was right next to Dean’s ear. “What’s 60? Me or Baby?”  
Dean shivered, Cas’s cold breath and the deepness of his voice both freaking him out and turning him on. He searched for the right thing to say in response.   
“My angel,” Dean whispered back.   
“Prove it,” Cas growled. He licked the upper part of Dean’s jawline.  
Dean suppressed a small moan and turned around. Without a word, he swept Castiel up in his arms and carried him up to their room.   
When they arrived, Dean carelessly tossed Castiel onto their bed, quickly ripping off his grey v neck.  
Castiel lay on the bed, staring shamelessly at Dean. His intense blue eyes seemed to boar a hole right through the middle of Dean.  
Dean lay on top of his husband, roughly kissing his neck. He sucked and bit the sensitive skin, leaving an impressive assemblage of angry red spots that would surely evolve into massive hickeys.  
He sat up, only to undo Cas’s blue tie. He took the silky fabric in his teeth, pulling it slowly from its comfortable spot. He spit it out onto the floor and began unbuttoning Cas’s white dress shirt.   
Castiel grinded his hips up against Dean’s stomach, his hard on pressing into Dean’s gut. He was no help removing his own clothing, mindlessly rubbing up against Dean, his eyes shut and a hand tightly threaded through Dean’s sandy blond locks.  
Dean pulled off Cas’s jeans, adding them to the crumpled pile adjacent to the bed. He stared hungrily down at the angel, naked spare his black American Apparel briefs. Dean traced the leg of the briefs, his tongue sliding delicately across his husband’s upper thigh. He could feel Castiel’s boner in his forehead and, Hell, he liked it. He eventually sat up, wriggling out of his jeans and removing his navy boxer briefs.   
Castiel wrapped a strong hand around Dean’s neck and yanked him down to his stomach, lightly pressing Dean’s face towards his crotch. This was his subtle way of asking for a blow job.   
Dean immediately understood his husband’s tell-tale signal. He grinned happily before sliding off Castiel’s underwear, tossing them to the side. His tea green eyes looked up to Cas briefly before taking him in whole.  
He first sucked, easy as cake. He then gripped the base of Castiel’s length for more difficult maneuvers. He pulled it out to slither his tongue across the tip. He then took it in once again, deep throating Castiel, all seven inches of him.  
Dean hardly even gagged, more than used to his husband’s somewhat generous penis size. He scraped his teeth carefully up and down his cock, faintly so as not to hurt him. He glided his mouth up and down Cas’s dick until he felt his husband was ready to climax. He deep throated him again, letting Castiel ride out his orgasm.  
Castiel moaned Dean’s name as he came, his fingers digging into Dean’s shoulder blades and leaving scarlet scratches littered with small beads of blood.  
Dean swallowed and released Cas’s penis. He sat up and wiped his mouth of excess semen, shooting a wide smile at his husband.   
Castiel panted, already coated in a hot sweat. Despite this, he again yanked Dean on top of him, sloppily kissing Dean’s chest, slightly tugging the skin into his mouth around Dean’s nipple.  
Dean moaned in ecstasy, taken aback by his husband’s unusual urgency. He reached a hand back to pull off his underwear, kicking them out of the way.   
Castiel instantly grabbed Dean’s hard penis, thrusting the length up and down and gliding his thumb across the tip.   
Dean whimpered, Castiel’s magic hands sending him into a sexual nirvana. He lasted nowhere near as long as Cas; ejaculating all over his husband’s stomach.   
Cas only smirked, pleased that he could get Dean to orgasm so quickly. He slid out from under his boyfriend, plucking a few tissues from their box and wiping the cum off of his lower abs.   
“Do you think we should head downstairs?” Dean asked worriedly.  
Castiel smiled. Dean’s concern for other humans was so endearing.   
“Nah,” he muttered, sliding into his husband’s arms.  
“Just say ‘bitch’,” Dean ordered. He gave a quick glance over to the deadpan faced Castiel before turning his attention back to the road.   
“Swearing is juvenile and unnecessary,” Castiel responded.  
“You swore once!” Dean protested. “You called Michael… what was it… oh, an assbutt.”  
“That was a one-time circumstance,” Castiel retorted. He looked over at Dean. “He really was being one.”  
Dean sighed as he parked the Impala. He couldn’t help but smile at Cas’s innocence, something he had lacked for decades.   
They entered Baby Mart, turning a few heads. Dean glared darkly at any onlookers, but in the back of his mind he couldn’t blame them for staring. Castiel, looking lost in his oversized trench coat, and himself, 6’1 and cut in a ratted denim shirt. They were hard to handle individually, let alone as a couple. Not only that, but they were both breathtakingly gorgeous.  
They took the longest time deciding on what was going to be in the baby’s room. The crib, the diapers, the dresser, all of that was easy. But when it came to the bedding, the mobile, the color scheme of the room; they couldn’t reach a mutual decision.  
Dean wanted red. Castiel didn’t want red; it reminded him of Lucifer.  
Castiel wanted blue. Dean didn’t want blue; it was too cliché for a boy.  
Dean wanted yellow. Castiel didn’t want yellow; it was the ugliest color to ever be seen by human (or angel) eyes.  
Dean groaned, fishing a quarter out of his pocket.  
“Here’s what we’ll do,” Dean declared. He waved the coin in front of Cas’s face. “Tails red, heads blue.” He smirked to himself, knowing that he had an edge by choosing his color to be tails.  
He flipped the coin into the air, catching it on his forearm. His face fell so greatly that Cas could easily tell who’d won.  
Castiel tossed some baby blue paint into the cart, a triumphant smile on his face.  
To make up for winning the color battle, and to score brownie points with his husband, Castiel let Dean buy the mobile with tiny race cars on it instead of the one Cas had wanted with angels dangling from shiny aluminum.  
They left the store hours later, both of them generally happy with their purchases. Dean was still pouting that blue was the color of the room, and Cas was endlessly irked by an ugly, coiled up snake night light Dean picked out. He couldn’t imagine sleeping in the same room as that thing. All of his empathy went out to their unborn child.  
That night they lay in bed, content that they were fully ready for a baby. Well, they still had to paint.  
“What do you think the little guy will look like?” dean wondered. He cradled Cas in his arms, his breath warm against Cas’s neck.  
Cas shrugged. “I could care less, as long as he’s healthy.” He took Dean’s hand in his own and gave it a kiss. “It’s our job to make it happy.”  
“I know baby, I know,” Dean answered, stroking a hand through Cas’s hair. “We’ll be great parents, don’t you worry.”  
“Cas! Rise and shine!” Dean shouted.  
Cas groaned, slowly moving his legs with effort. He fluttered his long lashes, trying to blink the sleep from his eyes.  
“What is it?” Cas asked. He tried to make it come out enthusiastic; Dean was so excited. Unfortunately, his tiredness made it come out as if he were pissed.  
“I picked a name!” Dean boasted, completely unphased.  
Cas’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “You picked a name?”  
Dean nodded proudly.  
“Babe, that’s great!” Cas cheered, wrapping his husband in a tight hug.  
Dean chuckled into Cas’s shoulder. He deeply inhaled. Cas always had this angelic scent, this amazing mixture of lavender, apple, and cherry blossom. He shamelessly sniffed the the aroma, his eyelids fluttering in pleasure.  
“So let’s hear it!” Cas beamed, pulling apart from the hug.   
Dean furrowed his brow, a bit unsatisfied that the embrace had ended so quickly. But he couldn’t allow something as trivial as the length of a hug put a damper on his mood. “Eli Jonathon. EJ for short!”  
Cas stared at Dean blankly.  
Dean’s green eyes widened with worry. “Do you not like it? Because I put a lot of thought into the name, but if you don’t approve I could-”  
Cas put a bony finger to Dean’s lip, silencing his husband. He fixed his cerulean eyes onto Dean’s.  
“I love it,” he assured. “It’s perfect.”  
Dean reposed his head on Cas’s shoulder, relieved to finally have a name.  
He rubbed his head into Cas’s shoulder, trying to get his winged husband’s attention. When he couldn’t get him on board, he began softly gnawing at Cas’s collarbone.  
Cas faintly tried to brush Dean away, feeling too tired. But oh well, he wanted it too.  
He gave in, quickly stripping himself nude. He wanted to get this done with before Sam came over at 11:00.  
Dean tugged at Cas’s earlobe.  
“Do you want to have sex?” Dean whispered hoarsely.  
Cas nodded.  
Dean grinded himself against his husband, feeling both him and Cas go hard. He wanted to do something different.  
He gathered up some courage and finally looked Cas dead in the eye. “Beg.”  
Cas looked puzzled. “Pardon?”  
“Beg for it,” Dean repeated. He leaned closely into Cas’s ear. “Let me know you want it as much as I do.”  
Cas blushed, already feeling embarrassed over how dirtily Dean was speaking ot him. He could do prurient things, but he couldn’t talk about him. He gave it a shot anyways, eager to please his husband.  
“Please,” Cas pleaded, letting his voice come out broken. He swallowed loudly for effect. “Please have sex with me.”  
Dean grinned and spanked Cas on the ass. “Will do.”  
Castiel lay with his face toward the headboard in a plank position. Numberous pillows were placed under his hips, stomach, and chest for support.   
Normally, Dean would’ve prepared Cas by using his fingers. But they’d had sex so many times that it was almost useless.  
Dean put his hand in his mouth, coating it in a thick layer of saliva. He then stoked himself a few times with his wet hand, using his spit as a lubricant. He lined up with Cas’s hips and, with little warning, steadily entered his husband.  
Cas breathed hard, the familiar burning sensation in his anus returning. His stomach did backflips and his body ached with pain and pleasure. And he needed more.  
Cas reached back and tightly grasped one of Dean’s forearms, his signal that he was ready for some rougher play.  
Dean took note of this and rammed himself harshly into Cas several times. He searched around inside the tight ring of muscle, searching for his prostate. When he finally found it, he hit that spot again and again, increasing his speed.  
Both men were heavily panting now, exhausted from the physical effort being made.  
Dean could feel himself begin to reach an orgasm. “Cas… Cas… I’m close,” he moaned.  
Dean let out a loud, guttural cry as he hit his climax. He could feel Cas tighten around himself as he released into him.  
He pumped in and out of Cas, slowly this time, to let himself ride out his orgasm. Finally he fell face down next to Cas, fatigue trumping desire.  
Dean wrapped a sweaty hand around Cas’s and held it to his own chest.  
“I love you,” Dean told, his eyes darting over to Cas.  
Cas looked back, a small smile breaking onto his face. “Love you too, babe.”  
The next day, Cas and Dean sat at the table with coffee, waiting for Sam to arrive so they could show off their baby’s newly painted nursery that was also fully furnished.  
Castiel stared vacantly at the sugar cube dissolving in his steaming French roast. Dean liked his coffee black and plain; the strong stuff; whereas Cas preferred a lighter roast with a lot of cream and sugar added in; the yummy stuff.  
Sam entered, a bundle of envelopes in his hand. He whipped out the top one and presented it to Cas.  
“Exciting stuff!” Sam squealed gleefully.  
“What is it?” Dean asked, leaving over to see.  
Cas pointed at the symbol in the bottom left corner. “It’s from the adoption agency.”  
“Do you think we can have our baby?” Dean questioned hopefully.  
Castiel grinned at his husband. “I think so.”  
He opened the letter and took it in his hands. He cleared his throat before reading.  
“Dear Mr. and Mr. Winchester, thank you for choosing New Life Adoption Co. We regret to inform you that…” Cas’s face fell as he read the next line. “Your birthing mother gave birth to a healthy boy, but decided to keep her son and cancelled her donation.”  
Cas shot a worried glance over to Dean, who was staring at him agape. Sam’s eyes were fixed on the ground, waiting to hear the whole letter before saying anything.  
“Due to the circumstances, we now inform you that you can set up a meeting and select a new birthing mother and have a baby in as little as a year, and two years maximum. We apologize. Thank you for being so understanding, New Life Adoption Co.”  
Cas looked up at no one in particular.  
Sam finally spoke. “I’m really sorry you guys.” He placed a giant hand on Dean’s shoulder.  
“I’ll give you some time alone,” he told, looking at Cas. He left, and the sound of his car leaving was what got Dean to stand. He stumbled weakly over to Castiel.  
“Cas,” he choked out, his voice cracking. He collapsed into his husband’s arms, weeping with such force that he began dry heaving.  
Cas held his husband, tearing up himself. He rubbed Dean’s back in large circles and whispered words of encouragement into his ear. His large wings wrapped around Dean, the feathers soft against Dean’s neck.  
They stayed like that for what felt like five minutes, but in reality was an hour.  
Cas wiped the tears from Dean’s face with his beige trench coat sleeve. He stroked Dean’s face lightly, trying to calm him some.  
“It’s okay, babe,” Cas comforted. He took Dean’s head in his hands and turned his neck up so that he was looking at him.  
“I can promise you one thing,” Cas swore. He kissed Dean on his forehead. “I have something better.”  
Dean usually got up at 8:00. By the time Cas rose around 9:00, a large breakfast would be ready, and Dean was already seated at the table, shoveling forkfuls of chocolate chip pancakes into his mouth.  
Today, Dean woke up at 8:00, but he stayed in bed until 11:00. Crying some, thinking mostly, and occasionally falling into a short, restless sleep before waking up again just as exhausted.  
What finally lured him out of bed was the strong aroma of food wafting in from the kitchen. He sniffed, confused, and absently followed the scent.  
When he saw what was in the kitchen was so confusing, strange, and joyful that he couldn’t even speak.  
First off, a breakfast sat at the table. Frozen waffles, scrambled eggs and microwaved sausage. It was nowhere near as impressive as Dean’s, but it was the best Castiel could do, and that was what made it so special.  
Secondly, and most importantly, Castiel knelt in the connected living room. Dean had a side view of him, but he could clearly tell what was going on.  
Cas was shaking a small rattle that was shaped to be a lamb at the young, gurgling baby laying contently on its back on top of a blue blanket.  
The baby’s big, electric blue eyes stayed locked on the rattle. A tuft of chestnut hair sat on his head, wispy and clean. He also had a mess of freckles under his eyes and across his nose.  
What was by far the most magnificent thing about his creature, which by the way, couldn’t even be a week old, was its wings. Fluffy little wings as big as Dean’s hands lay spread out on the floor, a couple of white feathers shedding off as they fluttered happily.  
Dean stood there, his mouth hanging open in amazement.  
“EJ,” Castiel cooed. He grabbed the baby’s foot and caressed the smooth skin, making the baby smile and its wings go even quicker.  
“Cas…” Dean began.  
Castiel looked up and met his husband’s gaze.  
“Is he…” Dean started, pointing at the baby. His voice came out high and small. “Is that our little EJ?”  
Castiel beamed. He stood, walking over and taking Dean’s hand. He led him so they were in front of the baby and gently pulled Dean to a kneeling position.  
Cas took the baby’s hand and offered it to Dean, who took it.  
“EJ,” Castiel began, his voice in full baby talk mode. “Say hello to Daddy.”  
EJ stared vacantly at Dean, his eyes flat. Dean frowned.  
“He doesn’t like me,” Dean complained.  
“Here, rub his stomach like this,” Castiel instructed. He tickled below the baby’s belly button, easy to spot on his bare chest.  
The baby giggled and its wings pulsated so quickly that stray feathers floated in the air.  
Dean did as he was told. The baby laughed just as hard (Dean liked to think EJ laughed harder when he did it). More feathers flew into the air, drifting to the floor in a neat pile.  
It just now registered to Dean that the baby had a mixture of their features. It wasn’t just Cas; it had Dean’s freckles and hair.  
“It’s… it’s both of our genetic stuff….r-right?” Dean stammered.  
“Yes,” Cas replied.  
Dean looked at Cas incredulously. “H-How did you-”  
Cas pushed an index finger against Dean’s lips. He looked into Dean’s Rapunzel like eyes and reminded,   
“I’m a motherfucking angel.”


End file.
